Welcome to the PokéCommunity!

Hi there! Thanks for visiting PokéCommunity. We’re a group of Pokémon fans dedicated to providing the best place on the Internet for discussing ideas and sharing fan-made content. Welcome! We’re glad you’re here.

In order to join our community we need you to create an account with us. Doing so will allow you to make posts, submit and view fan art and fan fiction, download fan-made games, and much more. It’s quick and easy; just click here and follow the instructions.

We’re on social media!

Roleplay CastingLounge about in Out-Of-Character discussions linked to individual roleplays. This is the best place to find existing roleplays to join, or create the sign-up thread for a roleplay of your own!

New threads in this forum are to be approved by a moderator before they are displayed.

I got Vanaheim's history covered and it explains the interesting history between the mainland and the two islands in addition to a few other places, but I only found vague information on Rastra and virtually none on Shinguo.

As far as I understand, Shinguo was in a few naval conflicts both with its western neighbors and Vanaheim, but I don't know much about Shinguo myself. Would you be able to elaborate on Shinguo?

Rastra is also vague but it mentions how a city was established on the shore that is essentially self-governed and is mostly a go-between to trade with the southern countries. Is there anything else about the inhabitants of Rastra?

__________________

My posts look too short, so I'm going to misguide the general public and artificially enhance the length of my posts with this garbage of a signature!

BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAGH...

...

In a world without substance, a nonsense signature is only appropriate!

@Xlugon Pyro- Yes, the problem we originally faced when creating this thread it that there is simply too many words, so we had to cut down our countries. Shinguo and Rastra were both newer nations than the others, so we cut them out and instead made them available upon request. I'll send you a PM with the info.

If anyone else would like more info on Rastra or Shinguo, please feel free to PM myself or Raikiri.

@Xlugon Pyro- Yes, the problem we originally face when creating this thread it that there is simply too many words, so we had to cut down our countries. Shinguo and Rastra were both newer nations than the others, so we cut them out and instead made them available upon request. I'll send you a PM with the info.

It's definitely too many words. XD I've spent too much time today reading the profiles of everything. That said, I've decided I'd like to reserve a position in this RP. Looks sshmexy! And don't be surprised if my character from the One Piece RP is really similar to the one in this one. XD

__________________

My posts look too short, so I'm going to misguide the general public and artificially enhance the length of my posts with this garbage of a signature!

BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAGH...

...

In a world without substance, a nonsense signature is only appropriate!

Appearance: Crystia's appearance is a mixed batch, ranging from creepy to alluring, depending on whose eyes are following which curves. She stands short among post of her peers, with a curvy form that emphasizes her feminity, along with a general lack of musculature and hips that dwarves could envy. Despite this, she possesses lanky limbs for her height and slender fingers that allow her subtle manipulations of magic. Crystia's body is unfortunately where most of her conventional attractiveness ends.

Vast locks of void-colored hair cascade down Crystia's olive skull and spine like a waterfall of liquid ebony, with tides that shift and rise with every step. This veil of hair hides a face beautiful, but not shaped by make-up or dainty features; instead crafted by the strong hands of a feminine artisan. Her cheekbones stand high and hollow, with a strong jaw to emphasize and a pair of dark, full lips that are often all people get to see of her emotional expressions. If the veil is pulled aside, Crystia's most defining features are seen; a pair of large opalescent eyes that stare into the souls of others. Every emotion can be seen reflected through these windows, which is why they're often hidden, save for the view Crystia can get through her magic and from the corners of her eyes. Above them sit a pair of elegant black eyebrows and long eyelashes, with a small nose of up-turned curvature.

These combine to form an unnatural appearance to most, with each stray look seeming haunted or dishevelled, when her hair moves of its own accord and eyes stare out like the moonlight from a deep lake. Crystia's movements lend it no credit, with each gesture learned from years of magical training and personifying her own exuberant nature. Like when a monster offers them a cup of tea rather than attacking, people get more confused by Crystia's generally optimistic nature than her strange appearance alone.

Crystia's attire changes with each dawn, depending on what's available and which mood has stricken her fancy. Most of the time, it revolves around something that allows for many measures of movement, whether it be the flowing robe of a monk or priest, or the woven undergarments of a barbarian tribe. Though her skin is unmarred itself, she has a fondness for gems that she can attach to her skin or outfit, to accessorize or use as a component for her practiced magic.

A minor appearance quirk is the fact that Crystia hates to be dirty, which comes into conflict with her habit of going barefoot wherever possible. As such, she created a minor cantrip that cleans any unwanted residue off of her own body. In lands where magic is forbidden, where she hates to step, Crystia is forced to wear boots.

Personality: Crystia is a woman of mixed first impressions and stranger following ones, with a curious mind befitting somebody with so many years on Aerion. Much like most of her own people, to those of other races, she can be seen as alien, despite their best intentions. She can either be seen as extreme in her actions, with grandiose notions of beauty covering all of land and life, or incredibly naive, with a lack of cynicism borne by those who've seen war or more violent aspects of life. Regardless of their goals, she will attempt befriending a person at least once.

In the purest sense, Crystia is an anarchist who believes the imposition of order on a world that is inherently chaotic is something to be lauded as a joke; she treats it as such, because that's all life is. Everyone is under the whim of nature, and the whim of everyone around them, which makes true order impossible. When a king can be struck down by a bolt of lightning, cities destroyed by nature's wrath, or a plan of conquest ruined by mere rain. Like a fickle God, she laughs at the dawdling of mortals, but makes friends with them anyway; because people are worth loving.

Because of this philosophy, Crystia treats all people as equal. She would pay the same respect to a beggar as one of the elven druids, which can get her into trouble with some, and lauded by others for not fearing the nobility. People aren't something Crystia fears, but there are many things she does. Magic used by others, monstrous creatures that could snap her twiggy body in two, and the potential rejection by friends she's already made, were they to discover her powers or hate her for an action she thought would be valuable.

At the top of Crystia's list of fears, however, is death. Despite her talent in working with fate, she fears the fickle finger pointing at her one day, and ending her adventures through the wondrous world. Never will there cease to be things to discover, remember, or live, and she wants to see all of it. But, behind it all, lurks this fear, that can inspire her darkest emotions and temptation. If there were some way to avoid the clutches of death, it would be very hard for her to resist. Regardless of the consequences for others; because if she lives so many more lifetimes, theirs are worth sacrificing.

Some of the smaller things that Crystia enjoys are sweet baked goods, jewelry, and romantic moments captured in word, song, or painting. There is fun to be found in all aspects of love and camaraderie, after all, because it inspires the purest of emotions. Nothing fills her with more glee than to watch the first kiss of young lovers, or the heartbreak that comes when it turns out such was not meant to be.

~

History: Crystia was born in an elven settlement by Lodricari Lake, to a father of the forge and a mother of magic, the former of whom was just as much a carpenter and the latter a member of the Lodricari Mages' Guild. On her birth, she was ordained as a mage, and spent more time with her mother than any other. This was in no small part to an apparent mark of magic on her form, that allowed her to know when anyone was watching, and anyone she looked at to know they were being watched. It was both a gift and a curse, but led to trust within a community.

As people of tradition, Crystia was raised by her the guild and her mother as a mage, to make use of the magic within her blood. Were she any other person, she would have grown up to be a regular elven mage, but one moment changed her life forever. She was sitting by the lake and studying incantations while listening to the chopping of wood by her father. Then came a crash, and a scream, and a turn of her head, where she saw the smoldering remains of a tree's trunk, with her father crushed beneath it.

It was a moment of chaos that sparked life-long inspiration within the girl; a morbid fascination surrounding the event followed, which the other elves of her community mistook for trauma over her father's death, which allowed the nurturing of this urge to begin. Crystia's father took his time with all things, always made sure that everything was perfect before he began to work, and that day was no different. The cause of his death was a stray lightning bolt, that changed the mood of the community for years to come, and the mood of her mother, too.

So Crystia began to think. If she'd been looking the other way, her father could have been warned of the falling trunk or the flash. If he had been working on other lumber, the tree would have fallen too far from him to hurt. Had the weather been less cloudy, the lightning would never have struck. It was a moment of beautiful fate, of which they were all at the mercy. Nobody in the guild understood this concept, though, instead urging that things can be prevented; the traditions worked, and there was some mistake in her father's performance.

Crystia retreated to her personal haven, to study fate itself, with calculations and storytelling, but fate was too vast to be constrained in such a way. But magic, that was something that could change the world; something unexpected, and spontaneous, and it could surely constrain fate. Much to her surprise, she was able to change the slightest things, as though fate had chosen her to be able to do it. What happened with her father was too far gone, but fate could be changed again.

So she sat in the same spot, as another village resident worked for lumber, beneath a cloudy sky, and urged lightning to strike the tree. And it did. The villager had done everything right in his job, yet he'd fallen victim to fate's finger, too. This was enough to confirm Crystia's hypothesis; that tradition was at the whim of fate, as was everything else. And if she could get on fate's good side, such things would not happen to her; an underlying notion that resulted from the fear of watching her father die.

Crystia left Lodricari Lake as soon as her training in the guild was over, despite the love she held for its inhabitants. She was to live her life as fate's little helper. Discovering the other nations was something of a surprise, especially their hatred of magic, but it was more than worth the expenses. Because, despite their regulations, they were still at the whim of fate, and that was a thought that made her giggle merrily. Sadly, the lands of Aerion soon fell into the sorry state it did not because of her, but because of fate itself. It wasn't hers to change it, indeed, she saw it as proof of her very worldview, but Lodricari Lake called her back with a message, to be their emissary to the Monks of Ekilore.

The choice was based solely upon her interest in fate, and why she'd left her beloved friends in the first place, so she took on the duty with a heart full of pride. Perhaps the Monks of Ekilore would be able to offer her some enlightenment, or she would be able to put her abilities to the test. If fate was going to be her guide, this was the chance to prove it. Not to the world, but to herself.

~

Weapon Preference: Crystia is skilled with magic, as any born and trained in elven lands would be, but her particular favorite is fate magic; a subschool that works particularly well for her, and can be used to subtly manipulate all things.

~

RP Sample:

Spoiler:

Oda Baldotter~

"Of course." Oda's agreement was swift, despite the reservations flashing clearly across her face at the apparent lack of sociability in the Apprentice that stood before her. She turned into the streets with a fluttering of her coat and returned within a few short minutes, with a sufficiently dour look hanging across her eyes as they met Xoxaa's azure orbs. "Come, quickly. The guards have received word of a truck headed towards the airfield; we'll need a vehicle, in short." Without waiting for response from Xoxaa, the Adept returned to the shadowy dockside street.

A gaze cast down each side of the street told Oda that only one viable vehicle remained, if they were to make use of the shortcuts that littered Regalo Island's surface like scars across a veteran's face; she'd seen enough of both to dread the bumpy ride. There happened to be a finely crafted motorcycle sitting on the street corner, unattended, whose silver sheen seemed to call out with an enticing glamor. It was a fine machine, not dissimilar to Oda's own, but that was stored by the mansion itself.

There were certain liberties allowed to Adepts of the Sword more than any other rank within the sector, such as the one Oda was about to take advantage of. It would cost money out of her own pocket if she were to damage the vehicle, but she trusted enough in her own confidence to not end up in a fiery wreck with an Apprentice on the backseat. The thing that worried her the most was the potential damage this thief could do, depending on the weapon they carried, or if another traveled with them.

Regardless, the time for worries had passed, and Oda knelt beside the motorcycle with a Swiss army knife retrieved from one of her many deep pockets. Hot-wiring the vehicle didn't take long, and was luckily a skill Oda's father had taught her back in Sweden that proved to be more useful than she'd ever expected. It was certainly quicker than knocking on the owner's door, and could possibly save one twelfth of the Famiglia's bank, if they caught up in time.

With no helmets hanging from the handlebars, Oda would need to be especially careful in her driving, and push back the instincts that would cause her to speed recklessly across the tracks of dirt worn through by many years of enthusiastic teenagers; ones like Annabelle, in fact. The Adept climbed aboard the motorcycle and revved the engine a few times, making sure she hadn't broken anything lethal, like the brakes, and whistled over to Xoxaa with the knowledge that the young woman's mind oft wandered.

Religion: Unlike many from Raelus, Mathias worships the Church of the One. He became a converted one when he stumbled across a believer who had taught the religion to him.

Appearance: Mathias has the looks of a hero. His long, golden hair falls in sheets to his shoulders, framing his angular, handsome face. He takes every possible care with his hair, for it is his pride and joy. Whenever he appears in the sun, vibrant rays reflect off his head. His face is almost as fair as those of the Elves. Many women have pledged their love to him, but he turns them aside. His strangely beautiful face is the product an Elf-Human marriage. He is a Half-Elf. His ears are slightly pointed, but it isn't completely noticable through his long, golden mane. His face is a light cream shade, much like his fathers, so he takes his dark brown eyes from his mother. His nose is rather thin, and is rounded at the end, his chin, a chiseled piece of art. His chin is angular like an Elf's, but it is chiseled like a Human's. A thin, well-kept golden beard borders his beautiful chin.

His body is very muscular in general, but his arms would be considered larger than the average warrior's. His large muscles almost popped out of his chain mail the first time he put it on, so the nearby blacksmith forged him a new set. His chest is well muscled as well. He wears a heavy steel breastplate, as well as steel greaves, gauntlets, and boots. His breastplate has the sigil of the house he once served as a knight: A crimson sun with a grey fist in the center. His sword's sheath is on his right hip, and his axe holster on his left. He draws his weapons from opposite hands.

Personality: Rowan is the perfect example of a knight. He is chivalrous, handsome, and brave. Whenever around women, he puts his best manners on. When in the company of men, he is the life of the party when there is one. His voice is deep and powerful, so he is the loudest person around when it comes to shouting competitions. His reputation to be stubborn is the same as the Dwarves'. Once his mind is set, it will not be changed. Mathias is not exactly stupid, but one would be correct to assume that he isn't intelligent. He is a good strategist, but whenever possible he goes for the
"Swing first, ask questions later" tactic. He accels at it. He will not tolerate any question of his honor, and will deal with the culprit quickly and painlessly. He doesn't enjoy causing pain, but he believes that one cannot get through life without doing so. Rowan is a firm believer in the Church of the One. He carries a copy of the Book of the One with him at all times and reads it everyday.

Fighting is a second nature to Ser Rowan. He is always the first into battle and the last to leave, either kicking and screaming, the absence of enemies, or the fact that he's dead. Mathias is quick to start a fight. He knows he could win easily by using his strength and surprising quickness to end the fight quickly. When he can't end it quickly, he goes into a defensive stance so he can out last his opponent.

History: (Your back story. We urge you to look at country profiles when making your history, but this being an original world, feel free to roam. If you would like to make up a House, or a town, feel free to do so. There are few, if any, limits, we impose here.)

Weapon Preference: Mathias is different than others from Raelus. He wears heavy plate armor with a chain mail suit under it. He prefers not to wear a helm, for it would block any view to his hair. For weapons, he uses a broadsword in one hand, an a double-headed axe in the other. He is of average skill with a bow.

Of the fierce and towering highmen and highwomen of the frigid lands of Vanaheim, for one of them to stand at a mere 5' 5" is more than disarming, but Xeye is accustomed to the surprise she gets, given that she's compared to the monstrous giants of her homeland and that her heritage is a bit unusual for those from the far north. Her body type is rather athletic and well toned from her years strengthening herself up in the unforgiving stormy northern seas, and furthering her strength when she was trained in various combat techniques, but her experiences as a warrior at a young age haven't done any damage to her womanly figure as well, as she has the right curves in the right places, which more often than not served as a complication with colleagues who became too fixated on her breast size and her ideally plump rump. Especially in her calves and legs, one can see that she has built up her lower body strength to impressive levels, which becomes all the more evident when she enters combat. Her arms show a decent amount of conditioning as well, but not so much so that her feminine figure is at all obscured.

Long, curled locks of light blue hair dangle down the side of her face, resting just above her bust while the rest of her wavy, wild colored hair that extends downward like a waterfall, ending midway down her back is restrained by her signature bandana she wears on her head. While her bandana used to be gray with the emblem of proud Vanaheim, she has traded it out with a modified silvery-white lynx scalp helmet with dyed-in blue tattoo marks around its eye slits she wears exactly like a bandana, reversing its face to her rear, as if she has two faces on opposite sides of her head. The woman's eyes gleam brightly, colored an odd silvery-white pigment, brighter than most who have gray eyes, although this appearance can be endearing or attractive to some, it can be intimidating to others who stare at them for too long, and may also contribute to her alias "The Blue Wildcat". As for the rest of her body, her skin resists the coloring of the sun despite her years out in it as her skin is still somewhat pale, but the sun definitely had its way with her as her skin is still somewhat tanned. Her face is marked with tribal tattooing with marks crossing the bridge of her nose, her eyes vertically, and all over her cheeks, colored a strong red with zigzag patterns that resemble lightning, twisters and waves. Even with her varied history throughout northern Aerion, she never suffered any major injuries to scar her except for a few, such as the long streak crossing somewhat diagonally just below her neck that is usually always visible. The woman's legs has also been a victim of scarring, as an uneven X shaped scar sits on the left side of her left leg, midway up her thigh. The other is a simple slit but a wide one sitting horizontally just below her right knee.

Due to Xeye's attire, all of her scars are clearly visible, but this fact doesn't shame or embarrass her in the slightest. In fact, they don't do much to dampen her attractive appearance at all and they may also serve as an intimidation factor and make the woman feel a little badass. While in the Renvall militia, her dress was somewhat more conservative and she donned the furs and metals worn by Vanaheim's warriors. However, those days are past, as she dresses a little more promiscuous, often seen revealing her midsection and wearing strapless shirts similar in appearance to a sports bra made from the scales of animals for protection and furs and hides for comfort and style, often with a wild coloration of whites, grays, blacks, browns and oranges and even yellows blues and greens in some places incorporating the patterns of the hides of animals such as snow leopards and alpine tigers, hugging her breasts and leaving the whole area above her armpits completely exposed, including a good portion of her cleavage and the scar crossing her collarbone. Wrapped around her core is a cream white cloth that acts like a belt, often stained due to her work but she cleans it often and sometimes even uses it as a napkin. Down below, she's typically wearing a short skirt or kilt of some kind depending on what you'd want to call it, also made from the materials and colors that compose her tops. Her feet are often hosting a pair of moderately-heeled and cleated, white metal-plated gladiator sandals, the perfect blend of functionality, style, and sexiness.

Personality

First impressions of this girl tend to be very disarming as her goofy, impish, and sometimes downright stupid or obnoxious remarks tend to make others wonder how she ever made a name for herself as a pirate, but the exploits she's achieved as a young pirate and eventual captain nonetheless gave her serious name recognition. She's hard to anger and seems to rarely take anything seriously, either laughing it off, jumping around in excitement, or acting unusually calm in an otherwise dangerous situation. Despite these appearances though, she's very reliable to those who know her and won't hesitate to make sacrifices when others are in harms way, even if they are her enemies. Her strength comes from her undying will and her absolute refusal to lose any dispute or battle which sometimes manifests itself in the most mundane of things. As such, she is incredibly stubborn and fussy, and her bizarre antics sometimes make others think that her mind stopped aging after 5 years.

Hordes of horny men have come on to her, but she is oblivious to most sexual advances, often mistaking her fans for wanting her to feed them something, give them money, or asking her to plant their already dying flowers for them. Despite this, she still doesn't like unwarranted hands gracing her body and will promptly thrash anyone who goes too far with her, especially if they try to see too much. Some might find her sexual ignorance endearing, but for the throngs of people who want to seduce her, they're in for eternal disappointment. While she's boneheaded regarding anything of a sexual nature, in other areas she's shockingly intelligent, having the mind of a strategist and the perceptiveness of a philosopher.

Wild and rambunctious, Xeye is always interested in adventure and action, usually supplanting what most would have in a bad situation as fear for hyperactivity and excitement, often irritating those around her who think she's not being serious about the circumstances. She acts in a similar fashion towards food, loving the thought of stuffing herself, in particular protein heavy meals, although her appetite runs south when she finds vegetables on her plate. This can also lead to her having poor table manners, giggling at the sound of body functions, where she's often reprimanded for her unladylike behavior. She also runs a foul tongue, the perfect manner in which to speak for someone as a rowdy northern warrior and one that has gotten herself in a lot of trouble from those she's served under, to her great annoyance which has contributed to her distrust for authority and the rule of law. Xeye's quick to discern unusual quirks and behaviors people have, and instead of using people's names, she tends to nickname everyone she meets, sometimes with a not so clever or desirable title to go by that nobody can get her to stop using.

If you happen to do the wrong thing in front of her though, she will take action in a swift and violent way. Her sense of justice is real and she will rush to the scene of trouble to stop any villainous efforts that're underway. This type of attitude tends to get her into conflicts way over her head, but her unrelenting pursuit of what's right helps her endure any hardship that falls on her shoulders. For this, some come to admire and respect her for her bravery and honesty in a world of evil, and usually come to change their opinions of her for the better. This can be seen as an oddity, especially as a former pirate and even now as a freelance mercenary, where morality is seen as more of a vice when the goal is complete freedom and endless wealth. Xeye beats to a different tune, however, which is to live life happily day by day, and to fear no obstacle, no matter its risk.

History

Born in an unusual part of the world, Xeye came about from the union of a notorious Vanaheim pirate captain and a wealthy elven woman who was on her way to the Trader's Waters and stopped in Eleusis during a bad time, as pirates assaulted the harbor of the desert port town. The girl's mother is stowed away on board their ships along with several other hostages. During the woman's pregnancy, the pirates raided various ports, raping and pillaging everywhere they went. Their conquest would come to an abrupt end by a fleet commanded by a famed captain from Falke, who happened to be the elven woman's lover who sought out the villains who abducted his wife. The naval battle ended with the defeat of the famed pirate captain who had also took the elven woman's life, but not before giving birth to a child, a baby girl who would be rescued by the Falke captain's crewmen, as he too suffered a fatal blow from the battle he waged with the Vanaheim pirate lord. The baby girl was taken to Falke and raised for a short time by the sons and extended family of the fallen captain, but the girl was soon taken by Vanaheim pirates who attacked the port city where they resided and abducted the young girl, an act of revenge for the slaying of their champion several months after his death at sea.

Young Xeye grew up aboard ships of rowdy men and adopted much of their behavior, even as a small child. She learned much about navigation and became accustomed to armed and unarmed combat and surviving in harsh environments. Despite her mixed heritage, she found a niche in the warrior culture of Vanaheim pirates, but her isolation from others her age and her shrewd developing mind soon dawned upon her that her intelligence surpassed most of the rough and tumble seafaring brutes that raised her. Her curious mind reached a precipice at the age of 11 during a raid upon the wealthy port town of Yorbe in the Golden Isles, where she stumbled upon huddled up families and civilians, rich and poor alike while she hacked through guards on the streets. Realizing that the acts she inflicted as a pirate had consequences, even though they had little effect on her and she wasn't interested in how others felt about her, she didn't want to see herself as a villain, and instead guided the civilians to safety while keeping her assistance of the residents hidden from her pirate associates.

The experiences of her future raids would alter her disposition towards her future actions, where at 12, she slew her crew's captain when they were docked in Borr, and she left on her own into the frozen north of Vanaheim, where half of her heritage lies. She traveled to Renvall and attempted to join the militia there under the Maerr and perfect her combat arts. Despite being smaller than most and a woman, she was still strong and more agile and dexterous due to her elven heritage, excelling in quick, powerful strikes that target areas that the body is more vulnerable to. She also perfected armed combat and in particular the uses of various types of axes. However, Xeye learned the life of a public servant wasn't for her, preferring a life of freedom she was used to at sea and hated the top-down societal structure of Vanaheim. At 15, she defected from Renvall's militia and decided to explore the world, relying on her survival skills she learned from the hunts she performed while in the militia and her life prior as a pirate. The brave young woman decided to make a perilous journey across Aerion, expanding her horizons, visiting Mindirion and learning the mechanical skills of the dwarves before visiting her mother's homeland to learn from the elves.

Miracyia is where she discovered the truth behind magic in the world which beforehand she had heard about only in the form of rumors that didn't illustrate much other than that most nations forbade the use of such power. However, the elves were different, and it didn't take long for Xeye too to realize she inherited the ability to wield magic and trained in both it and about the anatomy of biological beings. After leaving Miracyia, young Xeye was already a young woman and now knowledgeable in first aid techniques and a modest magician, learning the basics of the arcane and able to channel these raw energies into her weapons and body with mixed results, becoming a destructive combat artist and a feared mercenary. Thirsting for freedom and excitement, she quickly resorted back to piracy, sabotaging pirate crews and subjugating them to her will. Even at the age of 18, her reputation as a Vanaheim pirate, and a half-breed no less earned her the alias "Wildcat Mage" or, as she's better known as simply "The Blue Wildcat" for her ruthless style of mixing weapons and unarmed combat with arcane forces that render her foes helpless against her.

Vanaheim pirates learned caution when approaching her, knowing of her reputation of killing her enemies with even the faintest of blows due to the arcane elements that've given her the edge in many battles, and began her reign, short as it was, as queen of the Frozen Sea. After harboring in Aurur for a time, the young woman's lust for adventure caused her to rally the bravest of Vanaheim's raiders for an expedition towards the foreboding realm of Drakin, leading several ships of brave highmen and women to be the first to uncover the mystery of the land that has been off limits to all for thousands of years. This left a vacancy in the Frozen Sea as several pirates took to the Burning Ocean surrounding Drakin. However, an unusual storm bombards her fleet, causing several ships to crumble and sink to the wrath of burning tornadoes, countless lightning flashes and massive tidal waves. Xeye manages to escape the wrath of the terrifying weather and drifted away at sea before being rescued by a merchant ship from Elysia that didn't recognize who she was. She lost nearly everything she had in her expedition into Drakin and began to consider what new course of action she'd take, deciding in the mean time to assist those who rescued her until she determined her next path to take. In due time, she sets out on her own, hunting down mercenary work and honing her skills, making contact with a band of contrasting mercenaries along the way and decides to adventure with them in the mean time.

Weapons

Xeye incorporates both martial arts in her technique but also wields a pair of moderately sized axes forged from an ebony metal she acquired from the dwarves of Mindirion to bruise, shatter, and decapitate her foes. Her abilities have evolved further from her time training with the druids of Miracyia, discovering her affinity for the magical arts as well, and trained her spirit to the extent that she can coat her body, her immediate vicinity, and objects she physically interacts with in the essences of the natural world, such as fire, wind, water, and in rare circumstances, even lightning if her focus is unusually strong. Her skills are still more adequate in physical combat, but her elemental conjuring gives her a unique edge in battle, developing a technique she calls Stormsever Combat to blend the fist and blade with the arcane.

Sample

Spoiler:

Xoxaa Illiphia

The High Priestess

Oda responds promptly to Xoxaa's warning, the engine revving to maximum power right as the door of the bike's owner begins to open.

"Grab on to my hips, and don't let go," instructs the older woman, informing Xoxaa on how to ride safely as she begins accelerating the vehicle, rapidly picking up speed.

In no time, the motorcycle takes off, nearly sending Xoxaa flying off the vehicle, leaning back as her legs begin falling off and she begins to become airborne. With a loud yelp, the girl extends her arms, clinching her ankles against the frame of the motorbike in a desperate effort to remain seated. Digging her ankles in, she concentrates energy to her ankles, mustering enough strength to dent the sides of the vehicle, nearly stopping all motion of her body taking off into the air. Halting the backwards momentum, Xoxaa lunges forward as best she can while facing off against the resistance of rushing wind and the initial momentum from the take off, thrusting her hips back to push her body forward, heels still clinching the bike's sides as her right arm leans as far forward as possible, her hand finding clothing on the driver's right side, scrambling to secure a tight grip, potentially clinching the woman's flesh and squeezing her skin as she recovers from nearly being tossed off by sheer momentum. Securing her grip, the young woman thrusts her hips again, forward this time, before throwing her feet forward again, swinging her left up and around the driver's midsection, clinching it tightly before her right hand releases its grip slightly, flying over her left arm to tightly hug her driver's chest, possibly squeezing too tightly and awkwardly, inching up to the woman's backside as her rear returns to the bike's surface, her bosom planted firmly into the older woman's backside as her passenger clings to her body, a reactionary movement made in the heat of the moment.

The bike owner's door burst open, his bike speeding along the roads as the pair race off to stop the thief the guards reported to them. He yelled at them, Xoxaa looking back, her body still tightly wrapped around the woman as her head tilted to their rear, catching view of the man's fuming expression, his voice barely audible but she could tell the man is yelling given his wide open mouth movements. Her stare is blank, looking at him for a few seconds before turning back around, watching the man bolt towards the direction of the guards before returning her glance to the woman's backside. Xoxaa decides not to alert her driver to the vehicle's owner later, as the woman most likely suspects the owner will go after them somehow, and she wouldn't hear what the girl would have to say anyway. Their motorcycle voyage would come up to a few sharp turns before making its way to a mountain path. The woman driver makes what appears to be a laughing sound, following shortly after with what seems to be a few words, perhaps pertaining to their route, but such noise is shut out by the overpowering clamor of the motorbike. By then, Xoxaa's grip has lessened so that her arms are mostly vertical while her hands still cling firmly to the woman's clothing on both sides. Her breasts still hugged the woman due to her bust size, but she has more breathing room now, or at least she did until their course became a lot wilder, making a sharp turn that forces Xoxaa's grip to loosen and nearly sending her flying once again, maintaining a firm grip on the woman's side opposite of the turn until she can reaffirm her hold on the driver with both hands.

Riding through bumpy, mountainous terrain, their course veers away from urban terrain, mystifying Xoxaa regarding the route her driver has chosen. "Why are we going this way? I'm fairly certain the criminals weren't heading into the hills. Unless... did she say they were heading towards the airfield? In that case..."

Her thoughts abruptly cut out as they ride through the rough surface of the island jungle, whipping by the flora of the island while riding over a serious of bumps, some greater than others. Xoxaa, having accustomed herself to the wild voyage upon this two wheeled ride, manages her grip onto her driver far better than at first, now predicting the twists and turns, leaning appropriately for each alteration in their route. The surprises didn't end though, as Xoxaa spots ahead the summit of some sort of hill, her eyes widening exponentially as she comes to realize what her crazy driver is about to do.

"She's about to drive us off a cliff!" realizes Xoxaa, at the last few moments before their driver launches their ride into the open air, now overlooking the airfield. "I'm not sure if I can heal from the extensive damage of a fall like this if we don't land well..."

Spotting a suspicious looking vehicle midair, the driver of said vehicle appears to have noticed them, veering away in reaction into the roadside fence and breaching the airfield grounds. The ever evolving situation trapped Xoxaa in another daydream-like trance, watching events unfold until mere moments later where the two of them blast open the ground beneath them, wheels spinning at untraceable speeds as they complete their landing, rough enough to cause Xoxaa to be lifted off her seat, if but for a brief moment while she clings tighter to her driver. It certainly shocks the young woman, if only briefly, before returning her composure to normal as their ride picks up speed once again and zooms off and over the downed fence and into the airfield, in hot pursuit of the thief.

"This woman certainly picked the right vehicle. She must have one of her own. I wonder how much experience she has with these machines," admires Xoxaa to herself, acknowledging her driver's exceptional skill with the motorcycle, or perhaps it was dumb luck, as odd fortunes do occur.

"Can you do anything to halt it?" spoke her daring driver, severing Xoxaa from her internal realm once again, causing her to reflect on the impending circumstances, their ride in furious pursuit of the escaping criminal, closing the gap between the two vehicles before taking up the larger vehicle's left side, running parallel with the thief.

"Uhm..." ponders Xoxaa aloud, clueless as to how she might put a stop to the villain's stolen vessel. "We need to find a way to get the driver to pull over."

Fortune has it that Xoxaa happens to have her bag with her, and in it, the object of the girl's eureka moment. "The pistol!"

Reaching into her bag after unzipping it, she pulls out an unloaded, for safety, semi-automatic pistol, quickly preparing it for firing, then trying to keep it steady as she aims for the object of her assault.

"Give us some room from the RV and trail it slightly. I have an idea," alerts Xoxaa to her driver, about ready to fire.

It might be a reckless endeavor, and she deliberately kept the details of her operation out of processing range of her driver, who might otherwise object to her wild efforts, hence giving the woman instructions only on what she wanted her to do, rather than what she will be doing as well. After given the safe distance, Xoxaa eyes her target, aiming her pistol while keeping it as steady as can be while riding, granted the ride now is far more stable, racing across flat ground versus wild terrain like earlier. Smooth enough, at least for Xoxaa, since her target's big enough and close enough and a slightly uneven surface shouldn't be much of an obstacle. Aiming for the tires of the large vehicle ahead and to the right of them, Xoxaa fires her pistol, a loud bang sending projectiles right into the wheel's rubber membrane, firing at the closest tire and popping open the wheel to release the pressurized air held within the tires, then shifting her aim to the other tire on the left side, ripping open a few holes in that tire as well. The burglar's vehicle begins skidding, losing the tires on its left side, forcing the RV's driver to decelerate to a stop, turning to the left slightly, blocking the path of the motorbike, it too coming to a stop pending the events that're unfolding.

"I hope I don't get scolded for this later," contemplates Xoxaa, recognizing that her actions might be too risky for the older woman's taste, but something needed to be done before the thief got too close to the airplanes and caused further damage.

With the bike ceasing motion, Xoxaa got off first, since she's the passenger, before looking ahead at the downed vehicle. Her pistol remains armed and in her right hand as she approaches in a hasty run towards the thief's vehicle, taking initiative seeing as her driver is preoccupied with watching over their "borrowed" motorcycle. Keeping her eyes on the driver's door like a hawk, the look of a cold-blooded hungry predator on her face, almost terrifying to any onlookers if her otherwise small, feminine appearance didn't water down her otherwise fierce appearance, as if she was on the hunt and ready to kill. Shocked by the incident that had occurred, the burglar was ready for opposition, bursting open the door on his side with a semi-automatic rifle mounted on his left shoulder. By that time, Xoxaa's close enough for a clear shot at the villain, slowing to a power walk to prepare a properly aimed shot, but is nonetheless taken back by the man's superior firepower. Still, Xoxaa anticipated the actions of the thief, ready to fire as the vehicle's door swung open. Already discharging her weapon, she catches sight of the man and pierces his left leg before adjusting her aim upwards towards the man's hands and arms. He manages to pull the trigger, focused dead on its target, launching a few bullets that pierce Xoxaa in her arms and legs, and one in her chest, her speed accelerating towards the door upon recognition of the man's weapon.

The penetration dealt to her causes her to collapse to her knees, just before reaching the driver's door. However, the damage she dealt was enough, getting off a few clean shots in the man's arms, causing him too to collapse, falling to the hard airfield bellow and landing on top of his weapon, struggling to hold back the pain so he could finalize his kill. Unfortunately for him, the power of his opponent, to say the least, is nothing natural. Flustered from the penetration of several bullets, she pushed herself upward, portions of her body already expelling the bullets from inside her body as her arcana powers jumped into action to heal her otherwise potentially fatal injuries. Kicking away the barrel of the man's rifle, she stands over him, appearing fatigued, a look of both slight exhaustion and also a guise of coldness, an almost terror-inducing stare plastered upon her face. The man, disarmed, vulnerable, and bleeding profusely, looked up upon the object of his absolute terror, his face contorting to a shaken state, his lower lip trembling as his face flooded with the presence of anxious sweat. Horror was the only presence he could feel within himself, glancing upon a small but terrifying predator, one who not only appeared barely phased by several gunshot wounds, but had appeared to almost completely stop any bleeding, rendering any damage he might have done to nothingness.

Panicking, he scrambles on the ground like a flailing fish, desperate to recover its breath. Xoxaa reacts, promptly stomping a charged foot onto the man's grappling hand toward his rifle. The cracking of bones can almost be heard as Xoxaa's hyper-powered presses down on the man's defenseless hand, breaking it. Screaming in pain, the man flinches and struggles in pain, flexing his spine in pure agony. The girl continues, grabbing his now gnarled hand, inciting another pain-induced reaction from the man, before she pulls him up and slugs him square in the chest, causing him to slam his head into the bottom of his downed vehicle. She then approaches him, charging a stomp before landing it on the man's left foot, breaking it too. In desperation, he swings his right arm over in an attempt to harm the ferocious young woman, only for her to catch his fist, sliding her hand over to his wrist and squeezing it, charging energy into her hand to crush the bones in the man's wrist. Overwhelmed by pain all over his body, the man collapses onto the ground, unconscious. With the ordeal over, Xoxaa also collapses onto her knees, breathing heavily due to having to expend a tremendous amount of energy to rebuild her pierced organs and to stop the bleeding.

Mustering up whatever energy she can, she crawls over to her knocked out victim, covering his gun wounds with her hands, preparing her medical treatment on his body, or to be precise, the parts that are bleeding, as the bone fractures were more to keep the man from moving. Sweat pours from her brow, having severely exhausted herself due to earlier ordeals. She sighs, following up with a few coughs before pulling her up onto her feet once more, looking over to her superior, slightly curious as to what the older woman might think of her apprehension of the burglar. Giving the woman her face, Xoxaa did her best to smile in the state she's in, only to recoil in residual pain coursing through her chest, placing her right palm over the still open gunshot wound lodged in her midsection. Clenching her right hand as if she was pulling something out, she draws out the final bullet implanted in her body, throwing it off to the side. Coughing a few more times, she returns her gaze to the woman, working up a small but confident smile.

"I got him," affirms Xoxaa, her voice more raspy than before, but still soft and high pitched as it usually is, coughing a few times after speaking.

A sound off in the distance then reaches earshot, hearing the approach of guards who were also pursuing the criminal in order to prevent his getaway. Surely this situation will appear awkward to the rapid responding guards, with a woman sitting atop a stolen motorcycle, an RV with two left tires torn away, and a large man planted on the ground unconscious with a rifle a few feet away and a small, seemingly feeble young woman with a bit of sweat on her brow overlooking the ordeal, as if she had just ran a marathon.

"I bet they know about the stolen bike too," assumes Xoxaa, looking back at her superior, the same smile on her face but notably slanted, reflecting on an awkward situation.

"Oh," she realizes, clenching her teeth awkwardly as she recognizes the dent she made on both sides of the motorbike. "They'll probably be curious about that too..."

__________________

My posts look too short, so I'm going to misguide the general public and artificially enhance the length of my posts with this garbage of a signature!

BAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAGH...

...

In a world without substance, a nonsense signature is only appropriate!

There are not many ways to put it; Avangeline is beautiful. She has long, blonde hair with a neat fringe, beaded and hanging at each end of her face and though used to all hand loose, is either tied up into a long, high ponytail or pulled into a loose plat, depending on the situation. Her eyes are a crystal blue and skin is fair thanks to her sheltered life but speckled with light freckles here and there. Like most half-elves, her ears are pointed slightly, enough to distinguish that yes, she has elf born into her family. She has a button nose, slightly red to match her rosy cheeks.

Her body is neither tall nor short; she stands just above her mother and a head below her father. She is lean and posture is near perfect thanks to her training (nobody likes a fat and crooked lady-in-waiting). Her breasts are average but are often overcompensated thanks to the corsets and tight dresses she is required to wear. She limited blemishes visible on her skin, the most common places would be grazes and bruises on her knees, scuffs on her forearms and a cut under her chin.

Grown up with royalty, Avangeline was always used to gorgeous, long dresses made of the finest silks but tight and hard to breathe in. Heavy necklaces and earrings were compulsory it seemed and made living even worse, as well as the uncomfortable high-heeled shoes which had laces that were tighter than the corset. Of course, she never liked the dresses but was required to wear them.

Now away from her scheduled life, Avangeline wears the typical hunter’s outfit. The top half consists of a tight, leather corset fit with a hood and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. She wears leather guards on her forearms and gloves to cover her hands. The bottom half are very light tights, hardly protective at all, with a belt to keep her swords on her hips as well as fit with pockets to hold materials, money and supplies. Her boots match her gloves, leather with metal plates built onto the front, and protect her feet well. The boots extend to her knees to create metal kneecaps which somewhat protect them without resistance. Similar applies to her arms except she wears light, metal armour on her shoulders to protect the exposed skin.

As for jewellery, Avangeline wears one of her only kept trinkets from home; a feather pendant made from pure gold. Her earings are simple studs, one on each side and she wears an unseen ring on her right hand, one made by Elfish hands, given to her by her mother.

For a short range fighter, her armour is quite light and looks useless against enemies with enormous swords. Avangeline relies on speed and reflexes; her armour protects her usually on the open road or when she is milliseconds short of a sword on her arm.

Her beauty is often compared to her mother’s, though Avangeline would argue that she is not at all.

With her at most times is her dire wolf, Nem. Nem is quite large, as most dire wolves are, standing just under a metre and a half tall. He has thick fur, like most winter canines do, and a kind face. His fur is a mixture of dark browns, blacks and a little white. He is just over a year old, making him a recent change to Avangeline's life and not quite fully grown yet. (click for a picture and click for many pictures)

Personality:

Avangeline is unusually stubborn, rebellious and quite robust, especially for a princess. She stays firm to her beliefs, even to the point where she won’t admit she’s wrong. If she’s in charge, it’s either her way or no way, no excuses. In saying that, she knows how to be a team player and can take orders when it’s from the right leader. If someone can earn her respect, Avangeline is loyal to the core and will fight to the end for that one person, even if it means her life. And from this, Avangeline can only expect the same from you in return. Traitors will not be tolerated but second chances can be given.

From her extended life as a princess, Avangeline knows how to be prim and proper but chooses not to act like this. Only in circumstances where formalities are needed such as to a person who has earned her upmost respect, she’s blunt and is not afraid to tell you what she thinks about you. Perhaps too blunt, in that Avangeline can say the wrong things at the wrong times and be completely oblivious to the fact she may be giving offensive remarks or insults. She can probably be a little sarcastic at times and suggest barren approaches of solving problems instead of the more logical ways (for example, instead of climbing a tree to save a cat, how about cutting the tree down?).

When it comes to fighting, Avangeline’s style uses mainly speed and accuracy. As she does not wear a lot of armour, she relies on her reflexes to dodge attacks and have rarely been a burden to her. She’d rather wear her enemy out by avoiding their attacks and slowly making cuts on their bodies. Once they’re worn out, she strikes. Avangeline would never intentionally kill someone who’s innocent before and rarely does so to the guilty unless defending herself. Though, Avangeline can be hasty when running into a fight, having too much confidence in herself and even taking on multiple enemies at once without much preparation. Sure, she’s good at swordplay but her lack of planning doesn’t allow her to use the element of surprise very well.

Nem the dire wolf is at most times, a happy, playful and carefree pup. Being just over a year old, he is still technically a puppy. Without a hint from Avangeline, he usually cannot tell friend from foe. Only when Avangeline draws her sword or if she is in trouble is when Nem's entire personality goes though a paradigm shift; kill mode.

History:

Avangeline's birth came as somewhat of a shock to the royal family of Falke. Her father, Prince Norville Highclaw, youngest brother to the current King, was seen as rebellious, outlandish and spontaneous and not a great role model to the people compared to his older brother. Prince Norville was known for his antics, including but not limited to buying ridiculous items from foreign countries for vast amounts of money that had no purpose, disappearing from castle grounds to be later escorted from houses known to hold courtesans while drunk and disorderly or competing in petty events like mud or sword fights. His worst instance was prior to Avangeline's birth, disappearing from Falke only to return six months later with a beautiful but pregnant Elf fiancée from Miracyia, known as Malrin Faervel Emlygil. Though frowned upon, nobody stopped him or the wedding and seven months later, Avangeline Beatrice Ravonien Highclaw was born.

Avangeline was born as the spitting image of her mother (though apparently she had her father’s nose or ears or something of the like) and was raised like any of the noble children; proper education, proper clothes, proper food and proper shelter. She spent a good lot of her early years listening to her mother’s stories of home in the forests of Miracyia. Though she was rarely let outside castle walls, let alone outside of Falcon Peak, she let her mind imagine what it would be like to live freely like her mother used to. These wonderings were constantly scolded by teachers and other members of her family; though the elves were allies, a princess must never wish for adventure. She is to look proper and serve her people. She was a lady-in-waiting after all.

At age ten, Avangeline was taught how to use a blade and with it came a personality. The art of the sword interested her, though the training was only for self-defence, never a motive for her to want to become a knight. Her father, now had found responsibility with age, disapproved of it and her never fading will to see the outside world; his princess and her precious beauty had to be preserved. Her mother however, encouraged it, feeding her tale after tale of her forefathers and fantasy stories of daring adventurers. She even taught Avangeline the basics and roots of Eldaquente and practiced swordplay after hours and away from Prince Norville’s eyes.

Moving into teenage-hood, Avangeline had begun to take her father’s footsteps. When guards were not looking, she would sneak outside the castle to venture the streets looking for new and exciting things. She was never caught in the arms of a random man but in the markets observing trinkets and listening to lore of the merchants and caravans. Her rebellion was often compared to her father’s and though many of the castle staff and residents found it adorable and amusing, Prince Norville did not approve.

Around her sixteenth birthday, Avangeline was surprised and outraged to hear that she had been betrothed to a son of one of the richer noble families in Falke. Avangeline, of course, rebelled and emphasised her beliefs to her father but it was all to deaf ears; she would marry and that was that. Avangeline had other ideas for her life and would much rather spend it seeing the world than spend it cooped up in a castle waiting for King or Queen to die. So, without a second thought, she slipped out of the castle (with her mother’s careful eye and assistance) and ran away, vowing never to return to the life she knew before.

The first few months on the high road were hard; avoiding guards and any kind of suspicious looking folk while trying to survive on her supplies while her money slowly dwindled was not something she was particularly used to. Her swords saved her life on many occasions where thieves and bandits raided her small camp though at some times, she barely escaped with her life. It was a cold Winter night four months since her escape when Avangeline first took a life and it was not the last.

Seven months after leaving Falke, Avangeline found herself in the heart of Eveamoor in Dalenham. Abandoning her name, the now ‘Ava’ found herself joining a small thieves guild. Though her Falkmor accent was strong in contrast with usual Ethorian, Ava never found herself fearing that her true heritage would be discovered; for once in her life, Ava felt she was where she was meant to be.

From then, Ava moved from guild to guild, building a mastery for her double broadswords and earning a small reputation for herself. She never really made 'friends', but associates who she could later call upon for favours. During her time in a mercenaries' guild, Avangeline found herself heading towards the Dalenham from the Cloudwalker Mountains after she successfully protected a village from an Orc rampage. About a day into her journey, Ava was attacked by a dire wolf. She easily slayed the beast but afterwards, when salvaging its body for fur, found the wolf was already hurt from something, presumably an attack from farmers or villagers. The wolf was also a mother and had been protecting a single wolf pup, barely a month old. Avangeline kept the wolf, figuring she could have a friend to keep her company along the road and perhaps sell the pup to a merchant. Little did he know, the pup, now which she had named 'Nem', meaning nose, became a powerful ally, a brave warrior and a wonderful friend.

Avangeline is mainly noticeable in Dalenahm by her red scarf which rumoured to be ‘tainted with the blood of her enemies’ (though Ava really only had it dyed red in ink), being called 'the elf-witch with the wolf'. She has yet to return to her mother’s homeland of Miracyia; she says she will when she can call herself a ‘true elf’. At present time, she travels with a small group of mercenaries, quenching her insatiable thirst for adventure as well as earning a good serving of gold along the way.

Ah. I may have time now but I doubt I'll have time for another RP when january starts, actually. Especially when the real semester begins. So I withdraw my reservation and might try to join later on if there are spots and time.

I'll probably be reading though ^^ beause DERGEN

__________________

"Alright Gramps! Leave it all to me!"
moderator of Roleplay Theatre
proudly paired with seeker
staff collab july 2015

Zara's midnight black hair is cropped in a boyish cut, very reminiscent to Emma Watson. Her hair is straight and retains the same musical sheen that other elves seem to have, despite her being a quarter human. She retains pointed ears and the pale, almost moonlight skin that most elves in her father’s family seem to share. No matter how much Zara spends time outside, she never seems to tan or even get facial blemishes, such as freckles or even scars. The scars bit annoys her because she worked hard to get as skilled as she is today and the fact that she has no scars makes it seem like she hasn’t worked for her abilities. Zara has the same eye colour as her mother; a deep, emerald eyes that are often compressed due to the usual grin on her face. Zara wears no jewelry. Zara is often mistaken as a rather feminine looking male and doesn’t mind keeping it that way until she speaks as she does have an obvious female voice, although it is not very high pitch.

Zara is taller than her father’s 5’6 and her mother’s 5’5, as she stands at an even 5’8. She is rather lean and thin, but her finely developed muscles show that she is not one of those girls who just drinks tea all day. No, she is a warrior and it shows from the way she walks to the way she fights. Her breasts are fairly small, even for her weight, considering that she has less body fat than most. She generally binds her breasts, which makes her look flat-chested. Her body is covered by a thin, yet versatile body armour that protects her from the elements. Her mother, someone who has a magic spark, charmed the armour so that it would protect her from most blows of sharp swords; although, if she gets hit constantly and in the same spot, she will be cut. The body armour is a mixture of the colours silver, black, white, and dark green, showcasing where she is from and where her father and her mother’s grandmother was from. When speaking to the officials of Ellessar, she will wear an armour of the colours silver and black, just so that no one would get offended (although she would probably enjoy the looks on their faces). Her shoes are flats that allow her to move quickly and quietly. Like Zara’s body armour, they have the same charm. Her swords are held on her belt with their own charm attached to it; a person who is not Zara cannot wield her swords.

Personality:

People either hate or love Zara. Zara likes to pretend that she is the most happiest, gullible, idiotic, and naive person that has ever existed. She plays the joker and is very charismatic. She generally lowers people’s guards and make them underestimate her. It generally works well as she knows how to change her body language so that she seems to be incompetent in, well, everything. Feigning ignorance is one of her finely honed tools. She can be rather sarcastic, snarky, and have dry humour, even with the mask on. She likes to play with prefixes of words to try to change their meaning, such as "under/overwhelmed" and "whelmed" or "disaster" or "aster." While in the mask, she may let a few sparks of brilliance come out, but only to unnerve whoever she is trying to manipulate or show people that ought to think that she is competent that she is competent.

When Zara drops the jester mask, Zara is extremely intelligent and manipulative; although, not without a strong sense of morals. She follows the rules of the sword and other things she picked up from her journey that she found that she had a distaste to. She is still sarcastic, snarky, and has dry humour, but knows how to find weaknesses and make people bleed with just words alone. While she knows that she is a damn good at manipulating people and getting them to follow her, she is not arrogant enough to believe that she can manipulate everyone that comes her way (although she can try) and knows that she will likely be manipulated also.

Zara is a rather graceful loser to the opponent, but will hit herself hard when she loses. At times, she can have rather low self-esteem if she suffers from too many defeats. She always blames herself when she loses and tells herself that she could have found a way out if she had just been smarter. Zara is rather tough on herself and holds herself to high standards. When she doesn’t meet those standards, Zara begins to train and study furiously.

She rarely, if ever, loses her temper and that is only when someone does something against the moral code she has, such as hitting a child or abusing your wife. While Zara knows that people rarely, if ever, care about people that do not directly involve them, she always tries to help people in need and if she personally can’t, she will call in a favour and get that person help. Some people may call it noble, but Zara calls it decency.

All in all, Zara is a rather complex person.

History:

Zara was borne of the Elf James Palmer and the Half-Elf, Half-Human Gwendolyn Verrand. James and Gwendolyn were in Ellessar at the time as James was one of the peace ambassadors of Miracyia and Gwendolyn was the sister of one of the greatest swords master in all of Aerion. While Zara wasn’t royalty, her family, particularly her father, had more political control than the average commoner, which allowed them to live fairly well compared to others as they lived in a rather nice embassy in Tallis.

Ever since she was three years old, while most children her age would be playing with other children or peacefully playing with “dollies”, Zara was studying politics, learning how to use swords from her mother’s brother, and how to use words in order to manipulate people. Morals and rules were near often beat into her while Zara was training with the sword. When she was not training, she was studying and learning how to direct conversations so that she could get the information she needed. Zara was practically hand-crafted to be the best weapon, physically and mentally, as she could be.

Even though the training was hard and she would often walk away frustrated when she couldn’t understand something in politics, Zara loved training in every aspect. Zara especially loved to broaden her knowledge and even read about other things that she remained ignorant about on her own. Zara loved the proud feeling that emanated from her parents and uncle whenever she got a political fact right or when she got a technique right. The first time she managed to manipulate a conversation to benefit her at the age of six, Zara’s parents threw a party for the four of them to celebrate.

When she got a bit older, around eight years old, Zara’s parents started to teach her about deception and how useful it was to manipulate people. They also told her about defences that she needed to put up around herself so that no one could see her weaknesses. Zara’s parents would send her off into the streets and have her lie to people about who she is and try to get them to do what she wanted. Since she was so young at the time, she succeeded well and still uses the deception lessons to this day.

When Zara was thirteen, she had never had a friend. James and Gwendolyn had kept her daughter a secret from the world as the best weapon was the card held in one’s sleeves. While going to do her normal deception lessons, she met a few children her age that wanted to hang out with her. Believing that her character would not refuse, Zara accepted. She felt that it was weird that the kids were so carefree and didn’t even work hard but ultimately enjoyed hanging out with them. When Zara stated that she had to leave, she was already out later than she usually was, they called her a friend and hoped that she would be able to see her again. Her heart warm, Zara went back home to find her parents upset and aghast that the reason why she was late was because she was hanging out with people her age. They banned her from ever speaking to the kids again and, for the first time, Zara felt resent towards her parents rise up inside her, although she hid it between her usual compliance.

At eighteen, Zara defeated Gwendolyn’s brother for the first time while he was going all out. According to Gwendolyn’s brother, Zara was considered a master swordsman. While Gwendolyn’s brother still taught her some new tricks, he believed that they were near equals from then on. At that moment at time, Zara felt that she had enough of the strict laws her parents placed on her, Zara used everything her parents taught her to manipulate them into allowing her to become her own person. In order to keep the deception of James and Gwendolyn not having a child, Zara changed her name to the name she has today (yes, that means her name wasn’t originally Zara). Zara started to travel through all of Rolsten.

While in other places, Zara had quite the adventure. She met Elves, Dwarfs, people in need, mercenaries, what others consider to be “scum,” and helped a lot of people on her travels. Zara experienced the best and the worst of humanity first hand and although there was a lot of bad that mixed with the good, she enjoyed herself and her freedom. Some highlights from Zara’s journey were saving a relative of Armand Terrin while they (meaning the relative) travelled through the Wilds; creating an information web with the so-called “scum” of the slums; gaining favours from potential allies; winning an underground sword tournament; and generally making friends or pissing people off. She made it back to James and Gwendolyn a few days before the present.

When they were choosing a representative of Ellessar, James had nominated her, not as his daughter (because, for reasons Zara didn't know, they were still pretending they didn't have a child), but as a master swordsman who had trained underneath Gwendolyn's brother for twelve years and was now considered equals to him. James also talked about how Zara saved a relative of the Voice. While they still had doubts about asking an unknown person for help, a letter came from Palaven, asking whether or not they had a Zara Freya in the city-state; the letter had the Voice's official seal. Now knowing that Zara really had, in fact, helped a relative of the Voice, they decided on sending her as a representative to Ekilore.

RP Sample:

Taken from my first post on Pokemon Trainer Academy because, I hope at least, my writing style has changed (for the better) during my death. Even though you guys have seen me RP before...

Spoiler:

Bai Kong

Bai took in a deep breath and let it out, smelling the crisp and wonderful ocean air as the boat travelled towards the Pokemon Trainer Academy. She was nervous about teaching trainers, some probably only a bit younger than her, about going on a journey; she knew that her journey was probably abnormal compared to most even if one did not pay attention to the fact that she was four people in one body. Plus, there would be the fact that she could black out at any time during her lessons, and she hadn't told anybody about her...condition except Cynthia, although she was sure that the headmaster of the Academy knew. After all, one does not hire someone without getting their full background. She would probably have to warn her students too, as it was not do well for them to needlessly panic when she blacked out.

Most people would be worried if they kept on passing out without much warning, but to Bai, this was already normal. In fact, it had been happening to her since she was nine years old when she got into an accident involving fire, which gave her the very unattractive burn scar that reached to the back of her neck to the middle of her back. It was obvious that it was very painful. Because of this incident, her mind broke and split into two different entities, one named Bai and the other named Hei. They were complete opposites of each other: while Bai was happy, sweet, and confident, Hei was angry, sadistic, and arrogant. Bai's mind broke two more times; once when she was the only one who could deal with a hostage situation, which created Hui, an intelligent, lazy individual who really only comes out when she has a chance to test her intelligence. The last time was due to her torture at the hands of an evil team, Team Viper, in Unova. This time created Lan, a sad, lost, and even broken girl. Still, at some point, Bai's psyche had started to heal, merging the four personalities slowly, which starts with Bai gaining memories of everything. When Bai is starting to gain a memory, she, as she calls it, "blacks out" or passes out and when one memory comes, usually more memories follow. In between memories coming back, Bai has no idea where she is and is usually seeing things that would break most people. It certainly broke Bai.

Bai sighed. She didn't even have a map of the Academy and she didn't even know where to go. Worry about classes some other time, Bai thought to herself. Right now, hope that Cynthia would be waiting at the dock.

In fact, from the bow of the boat, she could see the Pokemon Trainer Academy. They would probably reach it in about ten minutes, judging by the speed the ship was going and how the island seemed to be growing.

Bai took in another deep breath, trying to banish her nervousness. She was usually quite confident in herself, but there was a difference on knowing that you were good at pokemon battles and knowing that you could teach a class about how to survive. After all, a lot of new trainers don't even survive to their third gym badge; they usually died in the wilderness, either due to an extremely aggressive wild pokemon, or because they did not have the necessary tools for surviving without a mum to help out with the cooking and the shelter over their heads.

Most ten year old kids had no idea how to cook, much less fend for themselves by scavenging or taking extra care of their supplies. In fact, perhaps that should be a lesson; know how to cook, scavenge, and take care of their supplies.

Way to go, Bai, she thought to herself. You have one lesson plan down.

Bai could see the dock and noticed a blonde figure waiting. She smiled. Cynthia didn't let her down after all.

-x-

As soon as the ship was docked, Bai ran off the ship and hugged Cynthia. Cynthia, smiling, hugged back.

"Hello, Bai," she said softly. Cynthia paused. "You are Bai, right?"

Bai chuckled. "You think Hei, Hui, or Lan would give you such a warm welcome?"

"Maybe Lan," Cynthia replied thoughtfully.

"If she wasn't too busy crying," said Bai without bite; she knew that Lan had the most painful memories of her life, so she was thankful to Lan for keeping those memories at bay for a few years, even if she was gaining a few of those memories now.

Cynthia stepped out of the hug. "Nervous about teaching?"

Bai smiled. "A bit, yeah. Not sure what I could tell them."

"Most of the students here are rather bright," Cynthia stated, as they walked away from the docks. "Most do not have much experience as you do, so remember that."

"Such cheek!" exclaimed Cynthia with shock. "When did you pick up such a mouth?"

"From you," teased Bai. "Didn't you know? You are a terrible influence."

"I'm a Pokemon League Champion, I can't be a terrible influence," Cynthia stated, aghast.

"You are a terrible influence," Bai repeated with a smile.

Cynthia rolled her eyes, but the effect was ruined by the grin on her face. "I'm not quite sure when your classes start, as I haven't talked to the headmaster yet. Are you going to tell your students about...?"

Bai sighed, all remnants of the good feeling their bantering had brought gone. "I probably should. They should know that a journey is not to be taken lightly. Maybe one class a week, I'll share something from my own journey?"

"Unova?" asked Cynthia solemnly.

Bai shrugged. "I hope that they will never have to fight against an evil team, but one does need to be prepared on the evils of the world."

"Are you going to speak about--"

"No," Bai interrupted. "I only have one memory from that period of time, probably because my mind knew I couldn't handle more, and even that memory was a horrible one. I'm trying to teach them to be careful, not for them to never go on a journey."

Cynthia gave Bai a one-armed hug as they walked. "You hungry?"

"Starved and parched, actually." Bai smiled.

"Let's go to the cafeteria before we visit the headmaster," suggested Cynthia.

"Alright," Bai agreed.

They walked, more like Cynthia steered and Bai just came along for the ride, to the cafeteria.

Other:

Zara has a rare ability called the "Gift of Tongues" which allows her to automatically be fluent in a language if she hears it once; strictly human languages though. This gift is purely from her father’s side of the family and is their bloodline. In the past, from a very long time ago, they used to be able to speak to animals, but the magic dwindled as time moved on and clans mixed.

__________________

"I want to become the SHINee that will exist in your hearts and be remembered forever." - Leader Onew

The PokéCommunity

Meta

Pokémon characters and images belong to The Pokémon Company International and Nintendo. This website is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Nintendo, Creatures, GAMEFREAK, or The Pokémon Company International. We just love Pokémon.